*This is a re-post of an article I wrote for a Pagan online magazine several months ago. I have found in my practice, that the most effective and useful tools at our disposal are the ones already provided to us by the Gods and Nature. So little is really needed to bring about change.

Close your wallets and open your hearts and minds to the forces of the World ready to be harnessed and honoured.

Using the Wind in Your Magical Practice

For most of us, calling upon the Elemental Spirits during our workings and rituals is as natural and normal as breathing. We do it routinely and after a while, it becomes rote; something we do without even thinking. There is an aspect of Crafting however, that is often ignored and to be honest, that most people don’t even think about. That missing link is working with the Wind and with the directions from which it blows for maximum magical effect.

Harnessing and using the power of the Wind is an ancient art. As any sailor knows, working with the Wind allows your vessel to move faster, with less friction and wear and tear on the boat. It makes the journey more pleasurable and productive. We can use this same analogy with our magical workings. Whatever our intent, if we align ourselves with the correct direction of the Wind, it will help to strengthen and solidify our working.

North Wind: The Wind of Death, abandonment, elimination and banishment. This Wind lacks moisture, and is cold, blowing through with vengeance. The element is the Earth and the colour is black. Use for workings where you need separation, closure or finality.

West Wind: The Wind of Gentleness; fertile, kind and open. This Wind is moist and provides a lusty background for workings of love and fecundity. The element for this Wind is water and the colour is blue. Use for cleansing, purity, romance and familial concerns.

South Wind: The Wind of Power. This Wind is hot and dry. Its element is Fire and its colour is red. Harness this Wind for workings where you need strength, endurance and vitality or to remove fear and anxiety. Use for initiative, passion and perseverance.

East Wind: The Wind of Light. This Wind brings clarity and brightness, perfect for new beginnings and changes. Great for use in career plans, employment or for help with muddled finances. Its element is air and its colour is white. Use for intellectual concerns, communication, changes.

Use a wind sock to determine the direction from which the Wind blows. Check your local weather forecasts to see when the Wind will be favourable for your working and plan accordingly. Most of us do this with the waxing or waning Sister Moon, so it isn’t cumbersome.

Remember that timing our workings in sympathy with Nature is not mandatory, but it does help to focus our intent and provides a strong, sympathetic background.

Reference: Medici, Marina. ‘Good Magic’. New York: Simon and Schuster, Fireside Publications, 1988.
Image: elegantsadist.wordpress.com

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SOLITARY WITCH by *RareEarthGallery

This is a loaded subject and one for which there is a lot of debate and controversy. It will probably be highly unpopular with many who follow neo-pagan philosophies but, I felt it had to be said.  My opinion is purely my own and based on real life experiences of myself and my family.

First of all, let me state unequivocally that most occult practices, tenets, foundations and principles CAN be taught. Through studied research, discipline in practice and experimentation and perseverance, most any occult or magical practice can be instilled in a devoted student.

All things that are PRACTICAL in nature and deal with physical aspects of working with the Web are highly teachable and beneficial for most. The time frame may be different for each person depending on maturity, discipline and focus, but really, just like any science, the ‘technical’ aspects of Witchery are fairly standard with variances primarily due to culture, geographic region and nature of the Working.

But then, there is the other side of Crafting; the psychic, intuitive, clairvoyant, necromantic and premonitory side that can NOT be taught – that eccentricity and phantom side of Spirit; the obsessive component of a Worker’s personality that knocks her to the left of center, renders her mostly insane and drives her to distraction.  She is haunted and tormented by the Old Ones and the Old Ways and there is no escape.  This ‘possession’ and solitary pre-occupation with Witchery is what cannot be taught.  One is born with it, or not. It cannot be cultivated.

I love to paint. I have yearned to be an artist on the same level as the old masters with flawless techniques and breathtaking skill. I have to admit however, that I will never attain that level of adeptness. I am not a ‘born’ painter. I paint for enjoyment and self-gratification, but I am not ‘painterly’ in mind and Spirit. I am not obsessed with colour and form.  I read that Van Gogh was so in love and obsessed with colour, that he actually ‘nibbled’ on his oil paints¹, taking them in and trying to ingest their beauty.  That is the quirk, the plague and the torment. That incredible desire for complete surrender to one’s passion is what makes someone a true musician, a true painter, a true writer and a true Worker. Insanity is useful and I maintain, even necessary, to the Adept of any science, art or philosophy.

I have to be truthful and say that sometimes, I wish I could ‘unknow’ some of the things I know and change what I am.  There have been times in my life where I tried to shelve my practice and deny who I was. I did this to fit in, to make others around me happy and to conform to society’s ideal of the perfect wife and mother. My denial of self cost me dearly and destroyed much of what I was trying to protect. So it goes.  I am wiser for that experience, however, it has scarred me deeply and in that wounding, I hold my tradition and my practice all the more sacred.

If you feel you are ‘called’ to this Path, please be aware – those who enter the Way to dabble, just to ‘see what happens’ or those who are bored and looking for a distraction may find themselves in serious trouble. The Ancient Powers are in no way kind; They don’t forgive easily, nor do They suffer fools gladly. When you take that leap of faith and dive off into the deep end, you will be embraced, but not as a prodigal son or daughter, but as one of the Dark Faith. This is no watered down Craft, practiced by urban yuppies once a month on the Full Moon. This is serious business. This is the life-blood of the Ancients, the eternal hum of Aether.  It will cost you.  But did you really expect less?

What do we all hope to attain at the end of our lives? When the twilight comes for us, what will we have accomplished at our life’s end? I believe our paths, no matter how learned, no matter how gained, will all end at the same place – to remember ourselves in Death and to recall our life’s lessons; to have honoured our callings as given and our Gods with passion and devotion – to have always been ready to speak the truth and be honourable, even when not in fashion.

We are all called to be ourselves without reservation and to strive in our Spirits for unity with the Divine. Ultimately, THAT is the course of true learning and that is a calling for all.

As our will and intent is expressed, so may it be blessed by the Gods.  May our lives ever be an honour to Their presence.

¹http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vincent_van_Gogh’s_health

Image: SOLITARY WITCH by *RareEarthGallery

http://browse.deviantart.com/art/SOLITARY-WITCH-99985338

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Like any sojourner on a spiritual path, I have found my walk at times joyful, painful, exhilarating and excruciating. Any religious or spiritual practice is bound to have peaks and valleys. All of life is cyclical change. Our spiritual paths are no different. You know what I am speaking about; those times of spiritual dryness where the Gods seem distant and silent, where our most heartfelt and sincere petitions and prayers seem to shatter as they leave our lips. Rituals are rote and crusty, hope withers and faith seeps from us, drop by drop, finally pooling, puddle-like, at our feet.

Unlike mainstream religions, I have no scripture to fall back on during these times. I have no ‘written, holy reminders’ of my faith; no gilt-edged texts to pick up and from those glorious pages, glean wisdom and renewed hope. My path is one of illiterate farmers. Even if it could be captured on paper, it never was, for fear of repercussions from the church or damaging gossip from bigoted, superstitious neighbours.

I have nothing but memories; distant, sometimes foggy memories of my dad, puttering around his massive vegetable garden, muttering Mexican blessings on all the plants he grew there. His constant anger at people (especially his family) and the frailty of our human condition as a whole was always abated by the Earth Mother.  Her healing Elements bathed him in repose and in time, his demeanor changed.

When dad taught most anything of a spiritual nature, he typically used a ‘gardening’ analogy. He said that our spiritual lives were like the jalapeño peppers growing his garden – a desert-like, dry environment was necessary if you wanted the peppers really strong in taste and heat.

If you want the peppers mild, you keep them well watered, never allowing them to dry out or wilt. You keep them well-fed, making sure to fertilize them well and see they want for nothing.  This type of care will make the pepper mild tasting, full, fat and soft.

However, if you want really robust jalapeños, you withhold water for a time. You let the plants dry out completely, almost wilting, and then and only then, you water them. You water them deeply and fully, reviving and rejuvenating them…and the cycle repeats.

Dad called this dry period, ‘the little death’. In this way, the pepper grows in power, strength and hardiness, searching for moisture and nutrients. Over time, the ‘little death’ is what makes the Fire Spirit of the pepper. This is what scorches the tongue and burns the belly. This is also what creates the Medicine in the pepper; that strong capsaicin chemical compound that is so beneficial for the circulatory system and heart. This Fire Spirit cleans the veins, scrubs the mouth and opens the chest.

This is life; this is experience, growth and maturity. These dry, dark times of the soul are when we ripen, mature and produce our own Medicine. We are continually being cultivated for our own Fire Spirit; that burning and lusting after the Old Gods and the Old Ways, that obsession over knowledge, wisdom and Power.

The Desert experience separates the mature from the immature, the Powerful from the weak. How we use and approach the Desert is up to us, but approach it we will. Our Gods have no use for our weakness; our portly, pampered states of neediness and constant complaints. They want us strong. They want honour and worship from a people with Fire in their mouths and sparks in their eyes. They want bodies taut with experience and endurance, a people burnt by their own cravings for the Mysteries, self-combusting from the longing; sunburned, pulsating, glowing. We become tiny gods on the desert plain, mortal replicas of the Great Ones.

I find myself now approaching these arid times with gratitude. After the initial fear and resentment of being ‘left alone’ to my own devices has subsided, I reflect and enter a self-made retreat, my own ‘little death’. I speak little, think much, and offer thanks even though I believe no One is listening. I keep working even though I think I am alone. I wilt and wither …and just when I’ve about given up….

my Gardener, She comes.

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‘The Sons of God Saw the Daughters of Man that they were Fair’ by Daniel Chester (1923). Corcoran Gallery.

Sometimes called angels, sometimes called demons (daemons), the Grigori or Watchers of the Old Testament are ambiguous and misunderstood. Depending on which side of the theological fence you stand, they are the blessings of the Ages, the Ancient Ones, who passed down their knowledge to Witches and wise men and women from ages past.  For some, they are an abomination, destroyers of the way of the World as their god originally created it.

The Grigori (Those Who Never Sleep) were created to be ‘watchful’ over the burgeoning species of humans.  They were physically much larger than humans; their demeanor kind, gentle and silent. They were not created to interfere in human affairs but merely to observe and quietly assist when needed.  Some remained in Heaven, watching and guarding the new Earth from afar.  Others decided to descend (the apocryphal Book of Enoch states around 200 took the plunge) and have a better look around.  It is from these ‘fallen’ or descended Watchers that many believe our power as Witches, Workers of the Way and Pagans evolved.

For a time, all went well. The human species was flourishing, increasing in population, power and intelligence.   According to the book of Enoch, the Watchers found the female humans ‘fair’ and so, they desired and lusted after them and lay with them, ‘taking wives of all They chose’.  The resulting children of these ‘unholy’ unions were the Nephilim, those giants of the Ancient myths, who pillage, plunder and endanger the World.

As recounted in the Dead Sea Scrolls: ‘…..In the days of Jared’, two hundred Watchers ‘descended’ on ‘Ardis’, the summit of Mount Hermon – a mythical location equated with the triple peak of Jebel esh Sheikh (9,200 feet), placed in the most northerly region of ancient Palestine.

On this mountain the Watchers swear an oath and bind themselves by ‘mutual imprecations’, apparently knowing full well the consequences their actions will have, both for themselves and for humanity as a whole. It is a pact commemorated in the name given to the place of their ‘fall’, for in Hebrew the word Hermon, or harem, translates as ‘curse”.

‘In time, each of the 200 took an earthly spouse. These unions produced children of extraordinary size, who quickly devoured the world’s food. To satisfy their enormous appetites, the angel-children roamed the earth, slaughtering every species of bird, beast, reptile and fish. Finally, the ravenous creatures turned on one another, stripping flesh from the bones of their fellows and slaking their thirst in rivers of blood.

As this wave of destruction washed over the earth, the anguished cries of humankind reached four powerful Archangels – Uriel, Raphael, Gabriel, and Michael – who upon orders from God enacted a swift retribution.

First, Uriel descended to earth to warn Noah of a coming deluge, advising him to prepare an ark to carry his family and a menagerie of creatures to safety. Raphael then fell upon the leader of the Watchers (called Shemyaza), bound him hand and foot, and thrust him into eternal darkness. Next, Gabriel charged with slaying the dissenters’ offspring, encouraged the monstrous angel-children to fight one another.

Finally, Michael trussed up the remaining Watchers, forced them to witness the deaths of their progeny, and condemned them to eternal torment. Only then did the heavens open up and wash away the last traces of the destruction that the fallen angels had wrought.’ {1}

During this licentious time, the Watchers shared ‘restricted’ information with their wives and other humans, much to the dismay of the celestial Lords.

This restricted knowledge included root working, herbalism, astrology, divination, alchemy, metalsmithing and enchantments of all kinds.  Yahweh had forbade the Watchers to communicate this wisdom, as the result would be that ‘men would then be as Gods’.  Yahweh was displeased and saw the desolation and desecration of the Earth and humankind by both the Nephilim and the Watchers. He decided to purge the Earth by a flood which would end the sacrilege, then, begin anew. Enter Noah.

This ‘forbidden’ knowledge is the occult wisdom and symbolism that we today as Witches, as Workers of the Old Ways, as Shamans and Pagans embrace and cherish.  Truly, the occult sciences are meant to make us as ‘gods’.  In my tradition, we are to become as powerful, as knowledgeable, as lustful and strong and rebellious as our Ancient Observers.  We are to honour the Ancient Path, the Path which was not permissible, and in this honouring and reverence, become the “Chosen” of the Gods; wise, influential and strong in the Craft. The Gods of the old religion become the Demons of the new.

Honour the Old Ways. Pay heed to the knowledge given to you by the Timeless Ones.  Respect it, show reverence and continue to learn. Become as you were meant to be: Become a God.

{1} http://www.fabrisia.com/thewinds.htm

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Watcher_ (angel)

http://www.steliart.com/angelology_fallen_watchers_grigori.html

Image: ”The Sons of God Saw the Daughters of Man that they were Fair” by Daniel Chester (1923). Corcoran Gallery.

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I have decided that I am insane. Not a long time in coming. I’ve been on this journey before and its twists and turns feel vaguely familiar and even comforting.

They say, that to be filled with the Divine, to really become One with the All, you must lose yourself entirely. Your heart and Spirit must dwell in a place where human logic takes a back seat and all that really exists is within your Mind, unseen and untouched except by Spirit hands, trembling and hesitant.

The corridors of the asylum are lined with thousands of us, waiting for Her passing. The halls are shiny and floors slippery. We stand with heads bowed, in dirty pajamas, hair uncombed, sleep still in our eyes. We wait, rocking back and forth against the wall. A TV flickers in the rec room, the dull hum of it lulling us all to impotence. I hold on to the railing, hoping I don’t hit the floor.

Being insane isn’t so bad. People quit being polite or making excuses for you. “Oh, she is just a little eccentric”, they used to say nervously, eyes darting to my face, to see if I was listening.

I didn’t set out to be this way. I didn’t set out to be a laughingstock, one so weird and strange that my childhood was spent talking to Plants more than people, keeping company with ‘imaginary’ friends and enjoying it more than play dates with human ones. To this day, with few exceptions, I despise the company of the living; the normal, the safe, the predictable and civilized. Give me Shades, give me phantoms, give me things that go bump in the night.

I didn’t mean for it to turn out this way.

I spent lunch hours in the school library instead of the playground. I craved solitude; the endless chatter of the classroom a hammer to my head. I would sit on the floor and read the Encyclopedia Britannica  volume by volume, wishing I were anywhere but where I was. I find I still do this, only now, I read occult books, I pray, I commune with the Dead, I do rituals and workings to lift my body and mind out of the mundane and to set my Spirit closer to the Great Ones…if even for a second.

I am a temple Whore. I am a Pythia, inhaling Her scent and babbling incoherently.

I am obsessed with the unknown; the darker ways, the crooked path, the crossroads of blood, bone, ash and decay. I find solace in cemeteries, knowing that one day, I will join them and finally be at rest. Harbingers of death, bad omens, nightmares and shadow Tarot readings are all just reassurances. I look forward to passing through that veil for the final time.

All of us, as true workers of the Way, must die in some degree, now, right now, to close off the ego long enough to be of use to the Gods. It isn’t fun. It isn’t light, gay or cheery. It hurts and I sometimes wonder if I will ever heal. Will I always be like this? Scarred, bruised, holding on to the faintest glimmer of normalcy, clutching the railing on those shiny asylum walls, before I hit the floor.

They say, that there is a fine line between genius and insanity. I disagree. There is no line. There really is no genius involved at all. Just shades of psychosis, weaving in and out, taking us for a ride, mangling our hearts and making us blathering idiots, consumed and inflamed and out of control. They say that is the sign of a true Shaman; demented, loathsome and creaky with craziness. That’s what they say.

So, I wait….I wait in the shiny hall, pastel-coloured medications in hand. I wait for my Gods passing, for Their relief. I don’t yearn to be normal. I yearn to be crushed and my body scattered as rose petals before Them, my blood making pretty designs on the linoleum. I long to let go.

I am tired of trying. I am tired of trying to fit in, to be ‘civil’, to engage in polite conversation and act like I care. I am tired of people, places, ‘reality’ and all that goes with it. This despondency knows no end. I ache with fatigue, my eyes and head hurt. I want to lie down.

I sigh deeply and with relief let my sweaty hands lose their grip from the dark wood railing…I feel myself taking the plunge and heading downward, I see the slippered feet of the other demented as I pass by.

All is quiet, all is grey, all is peace and calm. My meds scatter like pretty marbles, my feet come out from under me. I finally hit the floor. And it is good.

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Woman…Once Again

And in that icy twilight
When wayfarers their homes all seek
My body turns to inky feathers
My face; ebony eyes and beak

I fly on the crystals of the night
Following my Mistress through the midnight pale
And when the first rays of Brother Sun arise
I plunge through that foggy veil

And become Woman..
Once again.

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Shifting Sands by EidolonWeasel

I recently read an article on a well published website, where a noted blogger was discussing her crisis of faith with modern paganism and its many derivatives. I respect this author and have read her writings for some time, but felt a bit annoyed by the tone of the piece. Now, don’t get me wrong, I thoroughly enjoyed her honesty and ability to thoughtfully convey her doubts, and readily admit, that even pagan die-hards like myself have periods of dryness, of heartache, of questioning our thoughts and convictions. However, what disturbed me most about the article was the fallback of the author on the ‘spiritual sanctuary’ and ‘inspiration’ of ‘Abrahamic’ religions to offer support that paganism was unable to provide. Really? In the interest of animistic polytheists like myself, I would like to offer a rebuttal….and I hope one as equally thought out and well-written as that of my doubting, searching sister.

The background, the foundation and the infrastructure of monotheistic religion is pagan in origin. In his 1878 Essay on the Development of the Christian Doctrine, John H. Newman wrote:

“The use of temples, and these dedicated to particular saints, and ornamented on occasions with branches of trees, incense, lamps and candles; votive offerings on recovery from illness; holy water; asylums; holy days and seasons, use of calendars, processions, blessings on the fields, sacerdotal vestments, the tonsure, the ring in marriage, turning to the east, images at a later date, the ecclesiastical chant and the Kyrie Eleison are all of pagan origin and sanctified by their adoption into the Church.”

From the dying god mythos to current holiday celebrations of Oestre and Yule, the ‘Abrahamic’ religions felt a need to incorporate the strength, endurance and the longevity of the pagan culture into their own to attract converts and to stabilize a religion that was only gaining followers with bullying tactics and torturous threats.

To me, these examples symbolize the strength and stability of the pagan path and its origins. It deeply resonates with humanity and is not a path of shifting sand, but rather, so strong that its own symbols and ancestral tenets were adopted by a religion grasping for solidity after a sloppy, sophomoric start.

If one is not religious or has no firm anchor on which to attach, then during the buffeting winds of life, one may find oneself battered and bruised and left wondering what the hell happened. Paganism is no different. It is my belief that one must have something greater than oneself to call upon; be it the Gods, Mother Earth, the Cosmos, the Cosmic Web, or the Fates.

Philosopher and historian, Mircea Eliade, in his book, “The Myth of Eternal Return”, views the sacred as ‘….a construct of human consciousness.’ ‘All things reveal and all things conceal, the Nature of Being”. This ambiguity is echoed in doubts of Pagans and Christians, Jews, Hindus and Muslims all over the globe. Doubt is not wholly the pagan’s playground. It is the Nature of things to Change. Change is the only constant and nothing is set, but only our belief makes it so. No religion or belief system holds the key to stability, to sanctuary, to firm foundation, to doubt-free existence. However, I agree with Eliade on the point that the “…Earth herself is intuitively a religious form”. The Earth Mother and the Divine Feminine historically have been ‘anchors’ for pagans; that port in the storm to which we cling.

She is our source of protection, nourishment and Power from which we all draw. We are taken out of ourselves and thrown about the Cosmos on Her whim. She is life to us, She is faith to us, She is mother and destroyer to us. She is not shifting sand. She is mountain, ocean, elemental and solid. There is nothing ‘weak’ or ‘shifty’ abiding here. The Christian and Jewish patriarchs who claim ‘dominion’ over Her must surely be jesting. Dominion?  I see no evidence of man holding dominion over his own paltry life, let alone the most Ancient Gaia. We are ruled by Her moods, Her weather, Her changes and now, our ignorant destruction of Her. We shall pay for our disregard and narcissism.

All of mankind occasionally finds themselves careening through rolling waves of doubt. This is nothing new, nor is there any belief system that will eradicate it fully. I myself rest on the oldest of religions; the primitive, powerful, magical system that has sustained humanity for thousands of years before the birth of an Abraham or Jesus. I need no scapegoat god to hold up my ceiling of faith. I have my ancestors, my Deities, the Earth Mother and the magic of the spheres. I have the elements, the Spirits, the Dark Arts which tap into the Unknown. I shiver in anticipation of my faith. What will it bring? What will be the ending? Doubts there may sometimes be, but faith pervades and ultimately remains sure on a mountain of history, on an ocean of evidence, on a personal decision to return to the archaic and ancient; on all the history and legacy that transcends the shifting sands of time.

References:

Sjoo, Monica and Mor, Barbara. The Great Cosmic Mother. New York: Harper and Row, 1987.

Eliade, Mircea. Patterns of Comparative Religion. New York: Skeed and Ward, 1958.

Eliade, Mircea. The Myth of Eternal Return or Cosmos and History. New York: HarperTorch Books, 1954.

Image: http://eidolonweasel.deviantart.com/

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Mongolian Shaman - http://metal-gaia.com

In shamanistic cultures, death is to be reckoned with now, sooner, rather than later. One is to accept Death as a gift, one that holds countless blessings and untold wisdom. The Great Mother has decreed that all of us will experience it and all of us will cross the Blood River. Whether we do that now, in an altered state of consciousness, with our will and Fate accommodating or later, on our physical death beds with no choice, is up to us.

In ancient cultures, to truly be chosen as a shaman, one must literally die, and return. One must leave the body through illness, disease or trauma. The Spirit would then cross the River, make contact with the Spirit realm and return physically to inhabit the vessel on this physical plane. Needless to say, shamans were held in the highest esteem, for anyone who can die and actually physically return from the Shores of Death demonstrates great force of Spirit and body; it was not uncommon for many shamans to become mentally unstable and physically weak; some were accused of schizophrenia and paranoia, due to the stress, trauma and prolonged Spirit contact they had endured.

“Symbolic death and rebirth is a manifestation of the true Underworld Journey. Shamans perform this symbolic death and rebirth in a “state of ecstasy” deliberately induced by an effort of will. Reaching this altered state of consciousness requires great mental exertion, concentration and strict self-discipline. Mental and physical preparation includes long periods of silent meditation, sleep deprivation, heightened physical activity and fasting. In this state, skilled shamans employ capabilities that the human organism cannot carry out in the ordinary state. Shamans in ecstasy display unusual physical strength, the ability to withstand extreme temperatures, the bearing of stabbing and cutting without pain, and the heightened receptivity of the sense organs. Some shamans make use of intoxicating substances and hallucinogens, especially Psilocybin mushrooms, Ayahuasca and alcohol, as a means of hastening the attainment of ecstasy”.¹

In Norse mythology, Odin, (Woden/Woten) a shamanistic Norse war God and ruler of Asgard (upper realms) hung Himself upon the World Tree, Yggdrassil in His continuing quest for wisdom and secret knowledge. Rather than wait for the emissary of Death to chase Him, He sought it out first:

“I hung on that windy Tree nine whole days and nights, stabbed with a spear, offered to Odin, myself to mine own self given, high on that Tree of which none hath heard from what roots it rises to heaven. None refreshed me ever with food or drink, I peered right down in the deep; crying aloud, I lifted the Runes then, back I fell from thence.” – Hávámal

It has been discussed that when Odin killed His ‘ego-self’ by ‘peering right down in the deep’, He actually discovered Immortality and Ultimate Wisdom. He could then read, write and speak the Mysteries that had been hidden or kept secret (occult knowledge). Odin also performed another sacrifice for wisdom; He surrendered one of His physical eyes to the giant Mimir in order to drink from Mimir’s Well and become all-knowing and all-’seeing’. The physical loss was nothing compared to the spiritual and mental gains of Wisdom, Truth, Enlightenment and Remembrance in Death.

Through ‘techniques of ecstasy’ ²and trance states, one is able to symbolically die now, cross the Death River, and return with information vital for one’s self and for others. One becomes a wounded Healer, familiar with both Worlds and able to walk safely between them. With many gifts, come many sacrifices, as Odin symbolizes. Nothing is for free, not even in the Death Realms. ³

¹ Balzer, Marjorie,(1990). Shamanism: Soviet Studies of Traditional Religion in Siberia and Central Asia.

²Eliade, Mircea, (1972). Shamanism: Archaic Techniques of Ecstasy.

³de Vries, Eric, (2008). Hedgerider.

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‘Unaffordable’ by Khaled Kashkari

Update to post:

It would appear that this post has struck a chord, and not surprisingly, those who have the most to lose are complaining the loudest. Long may it continue. If not profiting from my tradition and selling unneeded kitsch to the masses makes me ‘self-righteous’, so be it. I’ve been called a lot worse, and am frankly honoured to have been mentioned as an oppositional voice to this endless consumer nightmare and constant promotion of useless goods which are produced more for the benefit of the money-hungry seller than the magical/spiritual needs of the buyer. Thanks for that guys. You know who you are …Now, on to our discussion:

What’s In Your Wallet? The Big Pagan Sellout

It’s cool to be Pagan right now. Being so makes one hip, edgy, a demi-anarchist. It would also, from all accounts, make one financially prosperous. I am talking about the ‘The Big Sell Out’; the ‘Pagan for Profit’ mentality that has taken over our computers, our lives and most sadly, our traditions, paths and beliefs.

Type ‘Pagan’ into your web browser and you will be bombarded with hundreds upon hundreds of sites offering to sell you everything from amethyst studded wands to faux zebra-skin mojo bags. We have purveyors of ‘safe’ flying ointments (they were never meant to be SAFE), herbal remedies for body and soul, spells for every occasion and ailment, tarot divinations, (“Call in the next 10 minutes and I’ll throw in a complimentary astrological reading”), and such illogical and unusable wastes of the Earth Mother and Her resources as to be shameful.

We have stones, chalices, fetishes, potions and poppets – wands, robes, cloths and parchments. If I see one more advertisement for a goddamn psychic reading or lemon-based herbal enchantment in a nylon sachet, I am going to cut my own throat.

Pretty ‘witch’ balls, decorative brooms, sparkly Goddess earrings, ‘road-kill’ animal skins dressed up as shamanistic ‘Spirit animals’, ornately embroidered robes, Life Coaches and Paypal donation buttons.  Ahhh. Yep, there’s true power there. Gotta be. It’s new, has pretty packaging and the advertisement said so.

I would expect such behaviour from Christians. The church has always been a big proponent of riches (even though their own scriptures and Founder denounce it; please see Mark 10:23-25: English Standard Version (ESV).

²³ And Jesus looked around and said to his disciples, “How difficult it will be for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God!” ²⁴ And the disciples were amazed at his words. But Jesus said to them again, “Children, how difficult it is to enter the kingdom of God! ²⁵ It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God.”).

The Catholic Church is one of the world’s richest organizations, worth literally untold billions. According to some sources, the Pope, as head of this conglomerate, is the wealthiest individual on the planet.

From this mindset, I would expect a sellout. From a movement supposedly started by an illiterate, desperately poor carpenter, that has devoured the world and left millions in spiritual slavery and poverty, yet, ironically, is worth billions (some say too many to count), from THIS type of institution, I would expect a sellout.

Call me old-fashioned or old school, but I remember growing up with people who lived in mobile homes in the New Mexico desert who would be considered destitute by today’s standards.  They worked outside; they grew their own herbs. They made their own tools for their Craft. They believed that actually making the magical item yourself added to the power. They would never consider ‘buying’ it from an internet ‘witch’.

The intent of the Worker was transferred bit by bit to the item being created. It was useless to buy something someone else had made for a ‘magical’ working. It had to have THEIR web strand embedded in it. To change and influence our own individual reality, our OWN essence and our ‘own thread’ of being needs to be inherent in our tools. Not a stranger’s. To buy our spirituality or magical props is the lazy man’s way of Crafting. It is also the weakest way.

These people I grew up with and around, worked with their hands and hearts out of devotion to the Old Ways and the Old Gods. They had no forums, no internet chat rooms, no glitz. There were no Facebook pages where they could ask mindless and mundane questions to people as ignorant as themselves on the other side of the monitor. No ‘Twitter’ updates, no books, no videos, no donation buttons, no Tumblr posts. Nothing. It was them and them alone, with the Spirits and Gods they conjured.

They followed their intuition. They talked to the Spirits and were guided by THEM, not by some red-eyed, well-dressed, over-fed ‘witch’ who got her information from brightly illustrated books and the latest episode of ‘Charmed”.

They worked with what was available. They didn’t have ‘two-day delivery with a Prime membership’. They had to get outside, in the sun and dirt, making talismans out of adobe mud, infused with grasses, rocks and the Power of the Shaman. They spent time with themselves and with the Ancients. They chanted, they prayed, their bodies swayed in time with the Universe. The blood flowed and the magic thundered.  It didn’t cost a dime.

This is not to equate spirituality versus prosperity. It is rather, to show the GREED, and uncontrollable appetite of the eternally hungry and fat internet marketers in comparison to those who seek help, encouragement, education and enlightenment.   I don’t think I’m better, I think I’m wiser. Do I love money? Yes. Will I do anything to get it? No!

To me, these internet predators are nothing more than nasty, rabid whores – selling their bodies, voices, words and unusable talismans to the unwary, weak and uneducated. For the most part, they are diseased, illiterate in the Way and hopeful that their own grandiose ideas of themselves will cover their innate magical and spiritual weakness.

I realize I am being harsh. We all need money to live. I get that. In fact, truth be told, I am probably one of the most money hungry people you will ever have the unfortunate distinction of meeting. But I will say one thing; I have never made a penny off of my Path, nor do I ever intend to do so. My dad told me it was wrong to do this. He said that what ‘was given by the Spirits and the Gods should not be sold. To do so was to trivialize the Power, to monetize it. To do so was to weaken the Gift and to make it a thing of men, not of the Divine’.

I personally think that is why the Pagan sellout is such a success. Most are weak. Their rituals dry, tasteless and rote, their spells ineffective and paltry. I imagine most people think, “If I buy that wand, or that ointment, or the newest deck of Tarot cards, or hire some Life Coach from Amazon, I will be stronger. If I have the newest planetary hours program for my computer, I can cast more effective spells”.  Sorry folks. That isn’t how it works.

You want to be more powerful? You want to rock the world with your magic? Here’s an idea; get the hell away from computer, from the TV, from the cell phone, from PEOPLE, from the internet in general.

Shut your mouth, shut your wallet and sit in silence in the dark. Fast. Pray. Meditate. Talk to plants, talk to the Gods, talk to the Spirits. Stop buying into the hype that you need newer and better ‘things’ to be a Worker. You don’t. You don’t need ‘life coaches’ and road kill finds.

You need dedication, discipline and that burning lust in your heart that will turn you insane.

When you start babbling incoherently to yourself, when you start seeing ‘Things’ that others can’t, when you start feeling ‘Presences’ that others don’t, when you see the Cosmic Web behind every living thing and when you speak to a stone and have it speak back, you will know. You have surpassed the sellout. You have become your own life coach, your own shaman. Why buy from the desperate?

All you need to be a great Worker is your Gods, your Spirits, your Heart and most importantly, a burning, all-consuming Lust for the Unseen. The rest will follow…the tools will be available for the Great Ones will see to it that you have what you need. And your needs are much less than you imagine.

Just you, the Universe and the Ancient Ones. Get out and start traversing the stars.  And guess what? You can leave your wallet at home.

Image:  Khaled Kashkari  - http://khalllody.deviantart.com/gallery/?q=sale#/d1v2cgt

References:  http://humansarefree.com/2012/03/christian-church-is-biggest-financial.html

Charmed: TM & © 2012 Turner Broadcasting System, Inc. A Time Warner Company. All Rights Reserved.

http://www.tntdrama.com/series/charmed/

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Image © Caelicorn

My Black Art Father

Master of many Shades

You, Bright and Morning Star

Accursed of the Ages, the Adversary

You come

Tearing my heart asunder

Every thought a dry leaf on a ragged wind

I am knee bent and broken

Longing for Death

Yet clinging to Life

Open my eyes that I may see

Hold my tongue that in silence I may grow

And with your Terrifying wisdom

Acquire self-knowledge

And see the Divine

Reflected in My tattered soul

Copyright secured by Digiprove © 2012